


The Instructor

by vesuviannights



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AFAB reader (no pronouns), F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Orgasm Denial, Other, Phone Sex, So so so so much dirty talk, instructional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21544354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesuviannights/pseuds/vesuviannights
Summary: Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have Asra tell you how to get yourself off with your own fingers? Of course you have.
Relationships: Asra Alnazar/Apprentice, Asra Alnazar/Reader, Asra/Apprentice, Asra/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 346





	The Instructor

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and published on my Tumblr [@vesuviannights](vesuviannights.tumblr.com).

The hardest nights aren’t the ones where he is on the other side of the globe, and you are left imagining how hard you might have to try to reach through the Earth’s molten crust just to brush your fingertips against his.

No.

The hardest nights are the ones where he is so close and yet so far, where you could easily find a car or a cab or a train and within a few short hours, find yourself just there with him.

Only, you can’t.

Because of work. Because of business. Because of _commitments_ that keep you both in each of your places, and so you are stuck with listless and sleepless nights where you can’t settle into the warmth of his touch. 

Where you won’t venture to his side of the bed out of hope that you might, by dawn’s first light, wake to find him stretched out there, lips parted in his soft breaths, white lashes fluttering against his cheekbones.

But it never happens, and so you merely spend those nights fading in and out of the darkness, alone but in the hopes that you will not be soon enough.

You are roused from your messy attempt at sleep by your buzzing phone. You grope for it, buried somewhere in the sheets after too long spent texting him where you should have been asleep. 

When you were _trying_ to be asleep.

Eyes still half-closed, barely lucid, you bring the phone to your ear and murmur a throaty greeting without glancing at the screen.

And your answer comes all too quickly.

“You always sound like you’ve been choking on my cock when I call at 3am.”

Your heart stills and then leaps into action, fluttering against your ribcage while your gut twists and heats. You let out a choked noise, and he chuckles; his own voice is soft, husky, a little slurred. Perhaps he had been trying and failing to sleep, too.

“So have you?” He asks, with a feigned coyness. “Been choking on cock?”

“Only ever yours,” you finally answer. “But you’re away. Again.”

“Mmmm…but if I wasn’t, would we be able to do this?”

It takes you a few moments to realise exactly what _this_ is.

In the static silence, you hear the rustle of sheets. A slight hitch of his breath. And there, just barely there—

The sounds of wet skin-on-skin, accompanied by his quiet groans.

“Oh,” You whisper. “ _Oh_.”

You feel the flush at your cheekbones, reaching straight out to the tips of your ears. Your nipples tighten, and without thinking your free hand smooths up your stomach to cup a breast and flick one of the hard little buds.

“Are you touching yourself, baby?” Asra murmurs.

“Yes.”

“No, you’re not,” he sighs. “Not properly. Not the way I need you to be. Though maybe that’s my fault—I know you always love some… _instructions_ whenever we play.”

Your teeth catch on your bottom lip as your hand stills. The cogs in your mind, despite being sleep-addled and possessing no problem solving skills whatsoever a such an hour, click and whirr as he says each word.

Instructions. _Play._

And suddenly no part of you is sleepy or coquettish or slurring your words. Suddenly you are alight, buzzing a little at the tip of each finger and toe.

A final warmth settles over you, accompanied by the tightening of your abdomen. You let out a soft moan, and then your hand slips away from your breast.

“Are you ready?” He asks.

You nod, and even though he cannot see you, he begins:

_“Press your thighs together._

_Do you feel the warmth there? The heat from the night, the ache of the muscle as you strain and press?_

_If I were there, I would hold your knees together and kiss up your thighs inch by inch, tiny little butterfly kisses to leave you whimpering and whining for more._

_Oh, and if you moved? If you reached out for me? Oh, my love, I would start aaall over again, as many times as I needed until you were patient enough for me to reach what mattered most._

_Maybe, if you were good, I would taste you—just for a moment, I would spread your lips and roll the tip of my tongue over your clit to begin coaxing it out._

_How does that sound, baby? I think you like the sound of it. I can hear your desperate little whines…_

_Are you being naughty—are you touching yourself yet? No? Good._

_Because then, I would coax your pretty thighs apart with my fingertips, and trace stars and moons on the insides of your knees with them._

_I wouldn’t let you look away, not even to blink or breathe. I want your eyes on me, and only me, as I lean in to scrape my teeth along the inside of your knee, as I place a hot, slow, wet kiss a little further inside your thigh._

_Can you feel that against your foot? Can you feel how hard my cock is, how much it aches to be inside you?_

_Maybe if you’re good, baby doll, I’ll let you taste it, let you lick it from base to tip to make it nice and wet before I rub it against that needy little hole of yours…_

_Oh, baby, do you think I didn’t hear that? Do I need to have you put me on loudspeaker so you can tuck those devious little hands of yours under your ass? No? Good._

_Now…imagine my hot breath, so close to your sex, your nipples tight, thighs quivering underneath my touch. I’ve left marks all along their insides, little love bites that only you and I will know about._

_Are you trembling, baby? Are you aching?_

_Because now, I want you to take your hand and place it on your chest._

_I want you to feel your heart thudding against your palm, I want you to feel how desperate you are, all because of what I’ve told you._

_I don’t ever need to touch you to have you this needy, do I? No, I don’t._

_Are your thighs still pressed together? Because they should be. I want you to keep aaaaall of that heat right where it’s needed. I want you **aching** and **desperate** for my cock._

_Slide your palm down your chest._

_Slowly, **slowly**._

_Curl your fingertips just a little so you can feel your fingernails scraping along the skin. Do it nice and slow, drag it out for as long as you need, and then one you’re **aching** …and **desperate** …and **trembling** …just like I want you…then you can take your hand between your thighs._

_But don’t be greedy, baby. Just a little touch for now, just like I would if I was there. Light little touches around your sensitive lips, the inside of your thighs…coax out that sensitive little nub, make it nice and swollen for me._

_You’re dripping all over the sheets, aren’t you? **Gods** , I wish I was there to see it, to taste it…tell me how it feels, how you look. Are your cheeks flushed? Is your lip bleeding?_

_AH! I can hear that. I can hear your fingers moving around in your wetness, pressing against your hole…did I tell you that you could fuck your fingers yet? No. So why are you?_

_Oh, because you’re **needy** , is that it? Because you can’t wait to get yourself off?_

_Well then…go ahead. Do it. Slip a finger in, or two—or do you need more than two? Are you that desperate?_

_Hold your breath so I can hear them better, so I can hear them slip in and out of you, so I can hear the squelch as they curl and spread you apart… **oh** , baby, I wish I was there, how I would be feasting on you right now…I would drown in your beautiful pussy like a starving servant, lap you up and let you hear every beautiful sound._

_Are you fucking your fingers? What about your clit—are you putting your fingers everywhere you need them? I can hear how close you are; the hitch of your breath, your little whines, the shuffle of the sheets as your hips shift…can you hear me, too? Can you hear my cock in my hand?_

_I’m so close to coming just from the sounds of you, the images playing in my head…yes…yes…augh…godsssssss…yesyesyesyesss….”_

There is a hitch in his breath, soft groans you barely notice. High pitched keens. The violet rustle of sheets. Cursing. And then a soft sigh.

_“I wish you were here to clean me up. To run that perfect little pink tongue all over my thighs and my cock, to suckle on the tip and make me shudder from it being almost too much…I would have you suck off each and every one of my cum-covered fingers while you looked me in the eye, all while you grind that pretty pussy of yours against my thigh until you’re crying from the frustration._

_Are you still touching yourself? Yes? Are you close, baby?_

_Stop._

_You heard me._

_You aren’t allowed to come._

_I don’t care how desperate or needy or close you are…you’re going to wait for me to be there when you come._

_Take your fingers and clean them off with that tongue of yours. Pretend it’s my cock, wrap your tongue around them and suckle them, swallow them. Moan for me, baby, **yes** …”_

You slip back into the world as though from some fevered dream, his voice in your ear from where you’ve dropped your phone on the pillow.

Your fingers are in your mouth, nearly down your throat as the last of your moans die right beside them. The fingers on your other hand are twitching against the skin of your lower belly, so desperate to finish what your other hand had started—but even more desperate to hear his words of approval, to know that you had been good and obeyed him.

“I’m so tired,” he yawns softly into the phone. You can hear, somehow over the rush of blood in your ears, his joints popping and cracking as he stretches out. “I know I woke you up. I’m sorry. I should have left you more of the oils to help you sleep. You’ll be okay, right?”

You can easily hear the lilt in his voice, and you can only whimper in response.

“I thought so,” he tells you. “I love you, baby. Goodnight. And behave yourself.”

And then the line goes dead.


End file.
